


those ain't tears

by M493



Category: Almost Human
Genre: Character Injury (non-descriptive), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 11:41:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5742475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/M493/pseuds/M493
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is trying to look disinterested, but Dorian can see how John angles the glass, catches Dorian's distorted reflection there.</p><p>"I believe the saying 'it's far from the heart' applies here, don't you?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	those ain't tears

It starts out with John drinking a cup of joe right next to where Richard Paul is furiously typing out a requisition form. John manages a brief, 'and don't forget to add 'immediately'' before he all but snorts coffee up his nose. Richard Paul looks up sharply. He eyes the paper cup from where it minutely wavers in John's hand. " _Kennex_ ," says Richard Paul, pushing his chair away from his desk and using his datapad to prod John away.

Richard Paul can work on his own paperwork, thank you very much.

John makes no indication of having heard him.

In fact, John is already making a beeline for-- _ah_.

Richard Paul snorts and shakes his head. Of course.

-

"Good god man," says John in lieu of an actual greeting. Dorian arches one eyebrow at him, as if John is a child asking why they couldn't very well leave at the start of a very important social gathering. "Hello, John, it is nice to see you too."

John continues on as if Dorian never spoke. "Your arm it's-" He waves his hand, the one holding the coffee cup, sloshing lukewarm coffee unto the precinct floor. Dorian moves his foot out of the way, dodging a few credits in shoe-related bills.

"John-"

" _Not there_ ," says John. He is currently glaring at where Dorian's right arm isn't, like it personally offended him. The tightness at the corner of John's eyes make Dorian think that maybe John actually is truly offended, but that seems to only be the way John is, most days. Tense, Dorian thinks.

"-yes, I know. I was there. Unfortunate story, that."

Carefully, Dorian takes the cup of coffee from John before he gets any smart ideas, such as chucking it. Which would be quite unfortunate, given that they are in a room filled with some very expensive technology.

Dorian smiles at John, just a small pleasant quirk to the corners of his lips which usually softens the sharp edges that make up John.

John's shoulders remain a tense line, stark against the artificial light.

-

In retrospect, maybe this isn't the best idea.

John isn't angry.

He is flipping furious.

Distantly, Dorian thinks he is adorable. The way John stomps around like the very ground he is standing on is his enemy. John is furious and Dorian wants to dissuade him, but watching John march into a drug dealer den and methodically take out every last one of them like he was a predator born and moulded for that very purpose made something unnameable rattle in Dorian's core.

-

"Tell me again," says John, raising his glass of glowing blue liquid. Dorian kind of wants to smack the drink out of John's hand and, at the same time, pour him another and another. John is trying to look disinterested, but Dorian can see how John angles the glass, catches Dorian's distorted reflection there.

Dorian sighs, as if he needed to breath. "I went out with Rudy last night- to the bar, you know the one, Cavalera's," says Dorian, expertly ignoring John's grunt of, _get on with it_.  
"Some guys got too drunk and tried to hassle Rudy. I punched them, EMP rod, sparks everywhere, looked like a firework show. It was cool." Dorian does not flinch when John smacks the shot glass on the bar and mouths _'it was cool, he says_ ' like only old, veterans can. When John remains silent after, Dorian nudges him with his remaining arm. "I believe the saying 'it's far from the heart' applies here, don't you?"

John holds credit chit in front the automatic register, waits until it beeps, and walks away. The glass of Androvian Blue Lightning sits untouched, paid for in excess.

Definitely the wrong thing to say, thinks Dorian as he follows John out.

-

John drives Dorian back to Rudy's come nightfall. He is silent the whole way. Dorian hums the entire drive and thanks John, as he always does, once the car has stopped right in front of where Rudy lives. Dorian opens the door and John's hand closes around a handful of Dorian's jacket. Dorian stills for a moment before settling back in his seat. He closes the door again and looks at John.

John is a picture. Not exactly a pretty one, at the moment, but a powerful one. He is looking ahead of him, into the open road that held nothing of interest. Dorian watches John watch road. John's hands are still on the steering wheel, white-knuckled. The silence is deafening. "John," says Dorian, when John keeps on not saying anything.

As if a switch was flicked, John spurs into action and Dorian finds himself pressed to the car seat, John leaning across to hover over him, and Dorian thinks, oh. And then, _oh_ , when John's mouth comes close enough that his breath registers across Dorian's skin, processors firing and cataloging.

John doesn't kiss him.

"I almost lost you once," says John. That is exactly not what Dorian expected John to say. "You remember it, don't you? Buddy, you got clipped by an EMP round, the blast knocked out your heart. That was last month."

Dorian remembers that, distantly. He wants to say that it wasn't his heart that got fried; he didn't have a _heart_ but John's hand presses firmly right over Dorian's chest, over the warm surface of his metal shell, synthetic skin providing the illusion of flesh, save for the almost smooth surface where the divot of ribs would be, in a human being. "It's replaceable, just like my arm. Your safety-" says Dorian, and John's hands flex in warning.

"Memories," says John, as if it was enough. And, Dorian supposes, to John, it is.

John looks very upset and Dorian reaches up to cup John's face, figuring that if he's this close, he won't mind having Dorian's hand on him. Dorian is not wrong. "If Rudy wasn't able to recover your memories that time," says John but doesn't elaborate. Dorian kisses John on the corner of his mouth, almost nuzzling him when John leans into the touch, breath picking up just a little.

"You know I can't promise you it won't happen again."

John snorts, anger finally leaking out of him. "Should call me about it next time though."

Dorian grins. "Of course, John, next time I'll make sure to give you a ring: 'hello, John, I'm about to be involved in a fist fight. Swing by, let's kick ass together. Sound cool, man?'"

"You-" says John, settling back into his seat and grimacing when his spine makes an audible pop. "-are an ass."

John doesn't look so angry now. Dorian knows this isn't over, that there will be _words_. He takes the quick look John sends his way as a small victory, however.

-

It turns out that John does have nightmares in which Dorian is injured in one fight or the other.

Dreams in which Dorian's body is restored.

But, his mind, gone.

-

"You ever think you'll forget about me, John?" asks Dorian, at absolutely the wrong time from between John's legs many nights later.

John's fingers curl a little in the back of Dorian's head, never pushing. "Been there, done that. Didn't like." John looks down at Dorian, mouth twisted into a jagged smile, but Dorian sees the softness in it, only meant for him. "While I'm young."

That somehow makes Dorian laugh, and he leans obligingly closer. "I won't forget you too, John."

John's smile, Dorian thinks, is radiant.

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from "These are the Lies" by The Cab.
> 
> Anon. on tumblr prompt:  
> "Okay, I loved the fic where Dorian loses his legs, so; prompt!! Can Dorian lose an arm or something and Rudy can't get him a replacement, and so Dorian has to go to work with it missing and it really puts John on edge??"
> 
> Throw prompts at me [**here**](http://m4-93.tumblr.com/ask).


End file.
